


I Try to Laugh About It

by exandriantrashpanda (topothesia)



Category: Critical Role (Web Series) RPF
Genre: Crying, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-26
Updated: 2018-08-26
Packaged: 2019-07-02 14:51:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15798783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/topothesia/pseuds/exandriantrashpanda
Summary: Two times Liam cried in front of Sam and what Sam did about it.





	I Try to Laugh About It

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a prompt on the Critical Kink meme. Thanks, prompter, for this good good idea.

Liam is having a terrible, horrible, no-good, awful, very bad day. It’s no one big terrible thing, of course not, but a constellation of little ones. Insomnia. Discovering that they’re out of coffee. Traffic that’s even more backed up than usual, so he can’t stop and get coffee or he’s going to be late. No one can get anything right on the first take today, including him, turning every line into a grind and putting them even more behind than they were yesterday. And everyone he sees, whether in person or on his voicemail or in his overflowing email inbox, needs just one little thing from him, just one tiny thing he needs to do or fix or approve or consider or say, could he just, would he just... At least he’s been too goddamn busy today to even think about Twitter. 

The day doesn’t even have the good grace to fucking end early, because of course it’s fucking Thursday, and while ordinarily he loves playing D&D and he adores his friends, tonight it’s just adding insult to injury. He supposes he should be grateful, and God knows he normally is, but tonight he’s having trouble keeping it in perspective. He didn’t mean to get into it for so long with Matt about the rules for that spell in combat, but goddammit, he was right, he knew he was right, and he wanted to have something go right just fucking once today. 

Except, of course, he wasn’t right, and also derailing the entire game for five minutes in the middle of a boss fight does not exactly make for riveting streaming, and the Internet is more than pleased to let him know both. His tablemates aren’t exactly thrilled with him either. When their back and forth ends with Matt finally saying, “well, you can certainly try,” and Liam does, the fiend they’re fighting shrugs off the effects like it’s nothing and Liam feels tears of frustration prick at the corners of his eyes. And then he -- well, his character, anyways, almost fucking dies. Twice. The first time it happens is right before break, and he spends it avoiding everyone and pacing up and down the hallway sulking and strategizing in his head instead. The second half of the session is just one critical miss after another for all of them, and Matt’s not pulling any punches, and he just wants tonight to end.

Sam finds him as he’s practically storming out to the parking lot and intercepts him. “You’re coming home with me,” Sam says, already holding up a hand to forestall protest, “You’re not arguing, you’re just doing it. I already texted your wife. And mine.” 

“I’m not fit company,” Liam protests. 

“You’re always a good fit with me, baby,” Sam says. “C’mon. I don’t know what happened, but you can tell me all about it on the drive.”

Liam sighs and acquiesces. 

Sam is a great talker, but he’s also a good listener. By the time they get back to Sam’s house, Liam’s run through all the petty frustrations of his day and Sam’s sympathy is starting to settle over him like a warm blanket, and Sam’s even made him laugh a few times. They have a drink, just one, it’s late and they’ve got work in the morning, and by the time they make it into the bedroom Liam can feel the knots of tension inside him starting to release a little. 

“We should get some sleep,” Sam says. “Especially you, you must be tired.”

“I’m not ...that tired yet,” Liam says slowly.

Sam turns to look at him. “Oh?”

Liam looks back. “Yeah.”

“C’mere then,” Sam says. “I’m not that tired yet either.”

It starts off slow, because to be honest they both actually are kinda exhausted, but Liam’s so happy to feel something that isn’t petty grinding frustration that pretty soon he’s really into it, they both are, clothes scattered on the floor, bodies grinding against each other, a frantic press of skin on skin. 

“Do you wanna…?” Sam gasps at one point. 

“Yeah,” Liam whispers. 

Sam rolls Liam over onto his back, takes his time getting Liam ready to the point where Liam could almost get frustrated again if it also didn’t feel so fucking good. But finally Sam’s inside him, his weight bearing Liam down, grounding him, and Sam’s murmuring, “Fuck, you feel so good, you always feel so fucking perfect, I fucking love you.” 

And all the tension in Liam gives way under the weight of all this sensation, all of this kindness, all of this love, and he’s crying, taking deep shuddering breaths, tears rolling down his face.

Sam stills. “Hey. Sweetheart. You okay? Should we stop?” He reaches down and gently thumbs the tears from Liam’s cheeks. 

“It’s okay,” Liam sobs. “Don’t...don’t stop. I need...I need this...”

Sam shifts position slightly so that he can press even more of his body against Liam’s, trying to get them as close together as possible, and begins slowly fucking him again. While he does, he whispers sweet soothing nonsense to Liam, his hands reaching up to stroke Liam’s hair and caress his wet face before sliding slowly lower down his body, gradually rekindling the flame of desire, bringing Liam back out of his head and into a space of nothing but sensation, a place where only the two of them exist.

“I’ve got you,” Sam murmurs. “I’ve got you. It’s okay. Let go.”

Liam half sobs, half shouts as he comes completely undone under Sam, and Sam follows him just a few short moments later. 

“Thanks for tolerating my catharsis tonight,” Liam says a little later when they’re snuggled up under the covers. “I’m sure having me start sobbing right when things were hitting their stride was the hottest thing ever,” he says with wry self-deprecation.

Sam just looks at Liam and for once Liam can’t quite read his face as easily as he normally does.

“You’re so goddamn pretty when you cry,” Sam finally says, and has the good grace to blush a little. “But it’s unfair, really, how attractive you are at all times. I don’t know how I’m supposed to do things other than take you to bed,” he says with a put-upon sigh.

Liam just laughs. “I think you may be a little biased, but I suppose it’s good for me that me crying turns you on, especially given that I do it so goddamn often.”

“Well, don’t stop on my account,” Sam says. 

“Couldn’t if I tried,” Liam says. 

A thoughtful look crosses Sam’s face, but they’re both exhausted and the morning is coming way too soon, so they don’t say much more before they fall asleep.

***

Liam’s a different kind of exhausted after the first full day of the con, the kind of exhausted that comes from being on all day, bouncing from event to event, becoming oversaturated by all the intense energy from all the people packed in around him. It’s definitely overwhelming after all those hours, but it also feels really damn good, such a damn good day with the promise of more tomorrow.

Sam’s riding the same high he is, and they barely make it onto the bed, hell, they barely made it back to the hotel room what with Liam using the crowded elevator as an excuse to press himself against Sam, and Sam pressing right back, neither of them saying anything but both of them feeling need kindle between them and begin to burn. 

Liam’s need is white hot at the moment, as hot as Sam’s mouth feels on his cock, as hot as Sam’s hands feel holding his hips. Liam’s leaning into the sensation, needing just a little more, he’s so close, Sam, yeah…

And then Sam slows what he’s doing before stopping entirely. 

Liam looks down in confusion, but Sam’s okay, he’s just looking up at Liam from where he’s kneeling by the bed with a slow smirk spreading over his face. 

“Forgot something,” Sam says, and gets up and goes and rummages in his suitcase for the lube. 

Liam half laughs, half growls with frustration. “You had to get that now?”

“It’s important to be prepared,” Sam says, sounding as sincere as a Boy Scout. Liam wonders if Sam actually was one, and if so, if he remembers any good knots. 

“Now, where were we?” Sam asks rhetorically, before sliding his mouth back down over Liam’s cock. This time, he slowly slides a slick finger into Liam’s ass while he sucks his cock, followed by another, working them expertly inside while his mouth works Liam over, and again Liam’s on the edge of coming undone and…

“Goddammit,” Liam swears as Sam slides his mouth off again but leaves his fingers inside. Sam just laughs. 

LIam knows he could get himself off, he knows he could ask Sam to finish this, hell, he could tell Sam to just fucking do it already, that there are any number of ways which would quickly get him what he wants. And yet he doesn’t help himself, doesn’t ask for it, doesn’t command it. Yet. 

Sam’s looking up at Liam’s face and whatever he sees in it is clearly working for him, his face flushing as if were possible for him to get more turned on than they both are right now, and then he bends his head back down over Liam’s lap and starts moving his fingers again. This time he’s clearly not going to stop, he’s clearly going to get Liam off, taking Liam’s cock in deep, pushing his fingers up against that one spot that makes Liam keen, fuck, yeah, that’s…

“Goddamn fucking shit, Sam!” Liam swears again as Sam stops for a third fucking time. “Are you trying to fucking kill me?”

Sam looks at Liam with an innocent expression. “I’ve been told it’s only a little death,” he says, grinning, moving his fingers teasingly. 

“You are so fucking funny,” Liam growls. He’s so fucking frustrated because he’s so goddamn close, and he can feel tears starting to prick at the corners of his eyes. He hears Sam catch his breath, a sharp intake that Liam usually only hears right before Sam comes, and Sam’s eyes are still on his face. _Oh,_ that’s _what he wants,_ the small part of Liam remaining that’s capable of thinking realizes, and then Sam’s fucking him with his mouth and fingers again, and he’s not thinking much at all. 

Liam doesn’t have attempt to use any of his acting skills to amplify his emotions; by the next time Sam senses that Liam is dancing on the edge again and stops, Liam is genuinely crying with frustration, half panting, half sobbing, tears running from the corners of his eyes. 

Sam gasps softly again, eyes locked on Liam’s face. “So fucking pretty,” he says quietly, so quietly that Liam’s not sure if Sam meant to say it out loud.

“If you’re not gonna get me off, then at least come up here and fuck me,” Liam complains. 

“That what you want?” Sam asks, his eyes not leaving Liam’s face. 

“You know what I want, but you’re not letting me have it,” Liam whines, reaching his fingers up to scrub at the tears. Maybe he is playing it up a little at this point, but it’s all coming from a place of genuine need. 

Sam slides his fingers out and scrambles up the bed, tugging Liam into a position on his back where he can fuck him and see his face. Liam lets out a sharp hiss as Sam slides into him and they begin to move, because it feels really good, really good, and his cock’s rubbing against Sam’s body as Sam fucks into him, he’s already getting close again…

“Shit goddamn mother fucking FUCK, Sam,” Liam sobs. “What the fuck are you trying to do to me?”

“I thought I was trying to fuck you,” Sam says breathily, starting to thrust again, more slowly than before. “Isn’t that what you asked for?”

Liam lets out a growling cry, and Sam catches his breath sharply again, and Liam’s pretty sure that he’s not the only one on the edge right now. Sam reaches a hand down and strokes Liam’s face, tracing the tracks of his tears. “So fucking pretty,” he says again. “You look so fucking good like this. You’re so fucking beautiful.”

“Just finish me already,” Liam cries, “Stop making me wait, stop fucking teasing me, I want it so fucking much.” 

“Is that what you want?” Sam pants. “You wanna come?”

“Yes, Sam, fuck, yes, just fucking do it, goddammit, I want...I need…” Liam sobs, trailing off into incoherent swearing interspersed with demands. 

Sam wraps his hand around Liam’s cock and begins stroking him hard and fast while he fucks into him, and Liam goddamn keens like a banshee when he finally goes over the edge, his breath coming in great heaving sobs, tears streaming down his face.

Sam comes so hard at Liam’s reaction, a sharp shout of surprise escaping him as he shudders against Liam before collapsing on top of him.

“Fuck,” Liam says, trying to get his breathing under control.

“Fuck,” Sam gasps, rolling over, in much the same state. 

“Did you...figure it out?” Sam asks later when they’re cuddled up together under the slightly scratchy sheets in the hotel bed. 

Liam laughs. “You weren’t exactly being subtle after a certain point there, sweetheart,” he says, kissing him lightly. 

“I guess I should have asked you first,” Sam says, almost shyly. “I do love you, I don’t ever want to really hurt you…”

“If I’d wanted it to stop, I would have stopped you,” Liam said. “I was getting what I wanted, even if I wasn’t. And I know you wouldn’t make me cry in a bad way, Sam. I love you too.”

“You’re just so fucking pretty when you cry,” Sam says with a dreamy expression and a deep sigh.

“Well, maybe someone else important and meaningful will die during the game tomorrow, or maybe Matt will force me to dredge up another horrifying portion of my character’s backstory again. I’ll look fucking gorgeous if that happens,” Liam says, making them both laugh before they settle down to sleep.


End file.
